Needy Little Things(78)

“Ain’t much to say, really. You gotta see for yourself.”

There’s some rustling, then he’s slipping a small piece of paper—no, a photograph—in between the floorboards. It flutters to the ground and I pick it up, but it’s too dark to tell what I’m looking at.

“I can’t see.”

He shines his cell phone flashlight into the crack. It doesn’t help much, but it’s enough to force a small gasp from me as I process the image. It’s Fitz and Deja. I hold the picture out in front of her. Her eyes widen and she shakes her head, afraid to speak. I take a closer look and the picture is obviously old. It’s outside the local high school. They both have on backpacks and letterman jackets. The girl isn’t Deja. But I’ve seen her before. I’ve seen her recently. That day at the city zoo with Josiah. I think of Tim, from Chefly, who claimed he saw Deja years ago. Could it have been this girl?

“Is this Crystelle?”

“Those were good times,” he says wistfully. “I reached out to her back in September when I found that photo at the bottom of the suitcase I brought to college. She laughed with me. Reminisced with me. Cleared some things up. That cheating mess at prom never even happened. Bunch of dirty rumors. Probably started by Jed. Anyway, when I came home for Thanksgiving I found out Crystelle—”

“Was in a relationship with someone else,” I fill in. The kind of relationship where they take day trips to the zoo.

“Yes. She goes to Georgia State. I went up there during winter break hoping to surprise her. Convince her to drop the new dude. The ice-skating rink seemed like a romantic spot, but I wanted to check it out before I asked her. The wild part is, I was thinking of you that night. Thinking of that ability of yours. How you give people exactly what they need.”

“I don’t know what—”

“Careful now. I don’t enjoy being played for a fool. Your grandmother is a legend down here, your auntie got a big mouth, and you and I’ve spent almost every summer together for the past ten years. You think I didn’t notice there’s something different about you? Something extraordinary about you? I bet that’s the real reason your daddy sent y’all up to Atlanta. And like I said, you were on my mind that night at the ice-skating rink. I was thinking, if I could just see you, I could get whatever I need to win Crystelle back. To show her how much I love her. So I texted you. A little early for our midyear check-in, but close enough. Do you remember what I said? When you asked what I wanted for Christmas?”

“You said you wanted to be happy.”

“Yep. And not thirty seconds later, I saw Deja. Spitting image of Crystelle. Maybe it was dumb, thinking you could fulfill a need over the phone. But that’s exactly what I thought you did. Didn’t find out y’all were friends until a few months later. Right around the time I realized a doppelg?nger is no substitute for the real thing. I tried to see you in person a few days before your buddy down there was scheduled to come visit me. Waited for you at the ice cream shop, but all hell broke loose. That man got stabbed. It could have been me. I’m a superstitious guy. I respect signs from the universe. You’re a good friend. I knew if I had her, you’d come right to me. Now, I did pay off that good-for-nothing Tim to try and hurry you along, and when that didn’t work, I made Deja stop replying to Malcolm’s texts. But I never doubted that you’d come to me and give me what I need. The giver of the most perfect things.”

Sneaky-ass gnat. I know where this is going and I don’t want it to go there. But trying to avoid it, trying to block a potential need from developing, only seems to encourage one to form. It’s fuzzy and buried deep in the back of my head. The more I try not to think of it, the closer it comes to the forefront of my mind. “I don’t have anything to give you, Fitz. And even if I did, there’s nothing down here but bugs and dirt.”

He cackles. “All right, you got me there. But it’s not like you can’t just tell me what it is.”

“It doesn’t work like that,” I say assuredly. I’ve never tried simply telling someone what they need. It never felt right or possible, and in this moment, that works in my favor. “And I need to be able to see you,” I add. He acts like a know-it-all, but he doesn’t know shit. I’m not powerless here. Not if he wants something from me badly enough. “I have a bag of things in the car. If you let me go get it—”

“No. I’ll get the bag myself. Then we can talk.” Dust rains down on us as his feet drag lazily across the floor. And then he’s gone.

Again I try to beat open the hatch. When that fails, I crawl to the closest vent, then turn and try to kick it open.

“They’re too small,” Deja says without looking at me, still scrunched in her spot near the door. “I already tried.”

My eyes shift to the spot where a bit of light from outside creeps in. A hole where a vent is missing. Maybe a toddler could get through, but she’s right. That’s not our way out. I’m crawling back over to her when there’s another sound from above. No way Fitz went to the car and back so quickly. He must have heard me trying to get out. He won’t be happy. I listen carefully, but his gait seems off. His shoes sound different against the floor.

“Hello?” A deep voice, slightly irritated, echoes through the house.

My dad’s voice.